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I couldn’t live without her.
After typing too many words and feeling even more sad than before, I climbed back into bed with Mom and wrapped my arms around her. I laid my head on her chest to make sure her heart was still beating and her chest was still rising and falling.
“Mom,” I whispered, knowing she couldn’t hear me. Tears started falling from my eyes as I lay against her. “Please don’t do it, okay? Please…please don’t die.”
37
Aaliyah
Present day
I hadn’t heardfrom Connor since he’d texted me that he’d landed in California. I’d sent him a lot of messages, and when I began to worry, he texted me back once. It was a vague and short reply.
Connor:I’m okay. Busy. See you once back in town.
I hated that when I read his message, worry and doubt hit me.
Don’t overthink it, Aaliyah.
The day he was supposed to return to New York, I went ahead and prepared dinner for him. I made a spread of his favorite foods and lay out a tray with every type of Cheetos I could find.
He came in two hours later than he said he would be home, and when he did, he looked destroyed. His tie was loosened, and his eyes were heavy. He smelled like whiskey, and I couldn’t for the life of me figure out what was happening. Had Jason burned the building down to the ground in California? What was weighing so heavily on Connor’s shoulders?
“Hey,” I said, moving closer to him.
He pushed out a forced smile. “Hey.” He walked past me without greeting me with a kiss, no hug—nothing. The alarm started building in me, but I tried my best not to let it show.
“I figured you might be hungry after the trip, especially dealing with Jason and his crap, so I made you some of your favorite foods. And—”
“Are you dying?” he spat out, looking at me for the first time since he’d stepped into the house.
His words made my whole system go into shock.
My lips parted to speak, but no words came out at first. Then, I whispered. “What?”
He took a few steps toward me. He lowered his head before looking at me with pain-filled eyes. “Are you dying, Red?”
“How did you find—”
“Jason. I guess it got back to him that you and I were…a thing. That’s why he called me out to California—to throw it in my face that I was picking up his leftovers, and then he told me you have heart failure. So, I came here to have you tell me it wasn’t true. So, please…tell me it isn’t true,” he begged, his voice cracking.
My lips parted, but I couldn’t cohesively collect my thoughts to say anything that made sense. “I’m sorry, I…”
No words came to me.
He looked seconds away from completely falling apart.
I did that to him.
I made his soul ache.
I took a step in his direction, and he held his hand up. He put his head down and stared at the floor before sliding his hands into his pockets.
“I’m…I’m sorry,” I said, uncertain what else I could tell him.
It was all I could think to say. When he looked up at me, his eyes were glassy, as if my apology was enough to tell him that I was, in fact, sick…that I was dying. It was in that moment that I saw the switch go off. I saw the moment he began to pull away from me.
“Listen, I think we kind of rushed into things,” he started.
